


Day 4 (Glad You Came)

by JEAikman



Series: Constance Week [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1926048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Constance tends to an injured and fevered d'Artagnan and muses about life since she met him.</p>
<p>Day 4 is Tamla Kari appreciation day but I can't exactly write fic for that so I wrote this instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 4 (Glad You Came)

Constance Week: Day 4

**Glad You Came.**

 

* * *

 

 

He looked terrible. They'd let her stay with him because they didn't know whether or not he would make it, and quite frankly, he'd be more likely to recover if she was there to keep him in line. He'd do anything for her, after all.

So she sat herself down and wiped at his brow with a damp cloth, trying to cool his fever, and remembered times when her mother had done the same for her and her brothers. She wondered what her mother would think of her now, what she would think of d'Artagnan. She'd like to think her mother would have approved of the Gascon. Certainly if she had been alive there was no way in hell she would have let her only darling daughter be married off to Jacques Bonacieux.

She knew Aramis has gone to wash his hands, now that his work stitching up d'Artagnan is done. Porthos was likely to be with him, but Athos had stayed. It only made sense, she supposed, seeing as Athos had been the one who had taken d'Artagnan under his wing. Someone to fill the hole the death of his father had left in his heart. She thought back to when he still stayed with her at Bonacieux' house. She'd checked on him one night when he seemed especially quiet and her husband had sent her to "check the lodger hasn't hanged himself, it would be bad for business". She found him crying silently, holding a small wooden carving, whispering _I'm sorry_ , _father_ , over and over. She had just told her husband that he was grieving, and to let him be.

That same husband who was now dead. The evidence all pointed to murder, and Constance found a forget-me-not on her pillow the next day. She felt guilty that as he was laid into the ground, her tears had more to do with relief than sadness. She was finally free. She had avoided d'Artagnan for a little while after that though, and he seemed to understand the need for her to sort through her feelings, which she appreciated. She didn't want to rush into anything right now, she wanted to embrace the freedom which she had been denied for so long.

But now, thinking about it, perhaps she had waited too long. She promised herself that when he woke up, she was going to kiss him and hold him close to her forever. Because Constance was glad that, well, what seemed like years ago now, a hot-headed farm boy from Gascony crashed his way into her life, and all the adventure that came with it. Even the heartbreak would have been worth it, if he would just wake up.


End file.
